Halting the fall
by Bye11
Summary: "Even in dreams, you could not fall forever. He would wake up in the instant before he hit the ground, he knew. You always woke in the instant before you hit the ground" (George R.R. Martin). Starts at the end of 5x05. It will include a girlfriend worthy of this name for Will, wise decisions on LG's part and karma finally shining its malevolent light on a certain Governor.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This one took longer than anticipated. If you like it, this is going to become a merge on some of the ideas I had for this season, starting from the end of 505. Surprise of all surprises, it's Will-centric, so if you're strongly Team Florrick/Agos, this is definitely NOT the story for you. I haven't tagged the characters because it would get crowded. In my head, this will include almost all the main characters. Also, I have to introduce my OC that represents my answer to that joke of a girlfriend that the writers have given Will. Ugh. As you can hopefully see in the photo, she's played by a grown-up Hilarie Burton. Enjoy! **

The thing that galls her the most is that it's such a cliché.

Woman meets man in business school. His hand lingers in hers a couple of seconds more than the cursory meet-the-competition handshake, her smile is a little more genuine. They don't get randomly partnered up. Fate is not that obvious. But they are both the MVPs in their teams and they are smart enough to recognize each other's talent. Their hook-up is finals-induced and, worse than that, alcohol-induced. They are tired and flirting with drunkenness and the pent-up tension is just too much. Of course they agree that it was a mistake the day after, that they don't know where they will end up, that an MBA is too short a period to waste time in a serious relationship. Their resolutions last two weeks. They are spending the summer in the city, interning at different companies, and their _casual_ dinner meeting turns out to be their first real date. The day the dean hands them their diplomas they both have a job and their relationship suddenly seems unshakeable. They don't live together because they need to maintain a sense of independence but the nights spent apart are rare. Their friends mingle, their families approve and they call tomorrow future but the path is already set today.

Until the merger.

She is tense. She has the facts about redundancy memorized and she is afraid she'll have to witness the biggest advertising conglomerate in the world from the outside rather than from the inside. He is there to reassure her. He is there to remind her of all the compliments she has been showered with, of how much she is valued by the company. And by him most of all. She smiles, adjusts in his embrace and revels in his confidence. The day arrives. Redundancy lists get compiled and she gets called in by the boss. She tries to keep her cool and she is genuinely surprised when she is handed a promotion instead of a dismissal. She calls him as soon as she can. That night they celebrate and she kisses him any time he goes for the "I told you so".

And because he had been so supportive, because he had loved her throughout it all, she doesn't see it. How he is suddenly very cross whenever she has a late night at the office, how he always feels the need to make a joke whenever they talk about her being the head of the Chicago branch, how he is more controlling in the bedroom. It all comes to a head when she brings up the fact that her yearly bonus could certainly cover the down-payment for the apartment they want. He shouts that she is flaunting her income and not anybody has the sheer luck of being in the right job at the right time. She is flummoxed. She doesn't know how to handle this version of him. Competition is second-nature to both of them. It's part of their foreplay and part of what keeps them coming back to each other but it never occurred to her that it would turn so real. That he would actually act like that. They try to patch things up. They have been dubbed the perfect couple for so long and the book on their shared life has already been written.

She throws the book away when he notices that she has been wearing the same outfit for two days and accuses her of sleeping with the boss from New York.

She finds herself alone at a bar after two consecutive days spent at the office because her boyfriend can't handle her success.

Such an infuriatingly-common story.

She doesn't have to be alone. She could call her support group of girlfriends. They would be there in minutes. She could vent and they would listen. She could cry and they would make a list of his flaws. She could start putting away his things and they would suggest tequila as an accelerant to burn all his photos.

She would Sex-And-The-City her breakup at one point or another but not tonight. Tonight she wants to forget without the headache in the morning. She wants to fall asleep pleasantly exhausted, limbs tired in all the right ways and for all the right reasons. She just needs to choose who the lucky man will be.

The bar is a convenient choice, the one across the gym. She has been there before and she likes the element of familiarity in a night in which she's being adventurous. She doesn't need to peruse her prospects. Her prospects are perusing her and she has the advantage of gauging them without even making an effort.

She spots Isabel, the yoga coach that subbed for Elle, in one of the booths. She doesn't move to say hello. They are barely acquaintances but the man that is sitting next to her catches her attention. Handsome and with an impeccable suit-and-tie combo. She likes men that have a sense of aesthetic. But she is not swayed merely by the right color mix.

There is something about his eyes. In her job, first impressions matter and she wouldn't survive long without being able to rapidly form an opinion of the person in front of her. She can tell that the man is not your run-of-the-mill loaded professional looking to show off his power with a new woman in his bed every night. He laughs too ecstatically at Isabel's jokes to be real. There is something wounded about him. She knows that she should discard him exactly for that reason. She wants fun and easy and he seems desperate and complicated and yet she is already plotting how to get him away from Isabel. She doesn't know him but he seems to deserve better than a woman who prattles about tattoos even while instructing yoga.

She sits at the counter, fishes up her phone from her bag, ignores Tom's messages, orders her drink, and then nurses her dirty martini in wait. Surely enough, not long after, he comes to refresh the drinks for himself and Isabel. While he waits for the bartender, she speaks:

"You know, women in their twenties are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get."

He turns to her, vaguely amused, his lip slightly turned up.

"Using Forrest Gump as a pick-up line is original, I'll grant you that."

"It wasn't a pick-up line."

"Really? And what was it?"

"A friendly advice."

His entire complexion darkens and, for a second or two, he loses himself in unpleasant thoughts. Then, bitterly, a reply.

"I don't trust those anymore. Friendship is all false advertising."

That was an interesting tidbit of information. He probably wasn't caught up in a cliché like she was. He was getting more and more fascinating by the moment.

"Love is false advertising and I would know."

She knows she shouldn't have shared that with a complete stranger. It undermines her confidence, the image she wants to project of a stringless woman but it slips from her lips as a reflex.

"That, we can agree on."

"Is it the only thing we can agree on?"

He smiles sheepishly, with a hint of regret, while getting the glasses for him and his companion.

"Probably not but..."

"You have a part-time yoga-instructor who is planning your next 5 tattoos to go back to, I understand."

That seemed to stall him. He re-poses the glasses on the counter.

"Do you know her?"

"She has subbed for my usual yoga instructor when Elle was in maternity leave. She is adequately flexible but inadequately crazy."

His response is a smirk but laughter is clearly distinguishable just behind his veil of fake-outrage.

"What about you?"

She is glad that her below-the-belt comment has engaged him again in conversation. She strangely feels at ease, talking to a man whose name she doesn't even know.

"I'm more than adequately flexible and anything but crazy."

She bats her eyelashes just a bit at that last comment. She is aware of the effect she can have on men but it's not a power she likes to use frequently. Tonight marks a clear exception.

"And me?"

She is convinced that the question was supposed to be a throwaway comment but it has come out more loaded than he had intended. Together with his statement about friendship, it isn't difficult to guess that his self-confidence must have taken a hit recently, maybe even that same day.

"Well, I can't speak for your flexibility but I think you're not crazy at all. You just want to be. For a night."

Just like her. That's why she is so adamant with him. She needs the mute understanding that only a twin soul can provide.

"You two-time as a shrink?"

Not normally, she doesn't. But her years in advertising have got to her. She has started to see the world as made up of customers desiring something and it's her job to figure out just what their yearning is.

"No, but my job depends on me being able to judge a book from his or her cover."

"Mine too, most of the time and I have been doing it for what seems like an entire life. I still fail at it. Spectacularly."

Definitely a breach of trust there. A severe one.

"Maybe I'm just better at it than you are."

"Probably."

A joking delivery but with still an inkling of self-deprecation. The man was definitely playing a part. She notices because she knows the signs. She has been an actress too. A proficient one at that.

"I'm not a nurse..."

She deliberately stops her sentence in the middle and then looks at him pointedly, hoping he'll reveal his name.

"Will"

Victory.

"I'm not a nurse, Will. I'm not here to cater to your wounds. You have your problems, I have mine. I'm not looking for a late-night chat on how the world doesn't understand me and from the look of it, you aren't either. And there is one more thing we have in common. We need a break. So if you prefer, you can take your gamble with Isabel but it would be a mistake."

She chooses honesty because as much she's enjoying speaking to him, she wants to be certain that he'll be going home with her later. That she won't have to spend the night without a distraction.

"Because she's inadequately crazy and you're anything but."

"Because she is simple and you're anything but."

And that is the complete truth. She doesn't like Isabel, the woman is borderline obsessive with tattoos and yoga and seems to talk about nothing else. But it's not just that. She has always found her cheerfulness unsettling. No complaints, no grievances, no hassles. Isabel, from what she knows, lives as if on perennial drugs, without concrete cognizance of the days passing, of things changing. To her, it's an unacceptably simple way of approaching life. For some reason, she wants to believe that Will is cut from her same cloth, not Isabel's.

"I want simple."

"I thought so too before entering this bar."

"So you wanted simple and now you want me."

Touché. But she isn't going to let him know that. His ego might be bruised but she has no intention of inflating it just yet.

"No, I wanted simple but then I remembered simple bores me."

Not a lie. Simple in her life is often synonym with banal and banal is her mortal enemy.

"Is there a third option between simple and complicated?"

"There is: consequence-free."

She has invented that on the spot, turning her advertising-lenses on herself. That's what she longs for. She hopes that it's the same for him.

"With a complicated person."

"Who plays the careless one for the night."

"And careless and simple are THAT different?"

"You know the answer to that question."

He smiles, eyes brightening and nods, conceding.

"Fine, you win."

"I often do."

"Not always?"

"Wouldn't want to appear too cocky."

"Weren't you playing careless tonight? Why would you care if you appear cocky?"

Will is exactly the kind of man she needs for the night. Handsome, fun and quick-witted and oh-so-good at bantering. Indeed, Will seems to be exactly her kind of man. Period. Isabel saves her from answering his question.

"What's taking so long?"

Her voice is whiny to her ears but she easily admits that it could be merely the fact that she is intruding in their tête-à-tête. Then Isabel turns to her and from the flash of recognition she surmises that she has been recognized.

"I know you."

"Yes, you do. From yoga class."

"You were in Elle's class. Emma with the ankle tattoo."

It doesn't exactly surprise her that she identifies people by her tattoos but it still makes her want to swat her away, like a disturbing fly.

"That would be me."

"So, do you two know each other?"

Her question is addressed to Will but she jumps in before he has the chance to answer.

"No, just met. I was trying to steal him away from you."

Will literally chokes on his drink but Isabel laughs, taking her comment as a joke. She reiterates.

"I'm serious. No offense, but I had a terrible day and I just need to relax."

This time she makes an effort and a frown or at least the peace-and-love version of it manifests on her face.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing personal, Isabel but Will here is coming with me."

Isabel turns to Will and she hopes that he hasn't changed his mind. She's suddenly very set on Will being her partner for the night. She pays the bartender for all the drinks and waits for his decision.

"I'm sorry, Isabel. Maybe another time."

It takes a lot of restraint to hide her triumphal smile but she does it all the same. Then she stands up and moves towards the door. Will follows her and in two strides he is at her side, to whisper in her ear.

"That was cruel."

"It was but she'll find someone else in no time and forget all about you."

That was just who Isabel was. Although, probably, she has to at least consider changing gyms.

"I'm not that forgettable."

Which works out perfectly because neither is she.

"Prove it."

"You should know that I am always up for a challenge."

"That's what I was hoping for."

She hires a cab and gives the driver her address before the awkward talk on which apartment to choose.

"You're deciding everything tonight, aren't you?"

"I would say sorry but I'm not. I don't like commuting in the morning."

"You don't even know where I live."

"I made an educated guess. My apartment is literally two blocks away from my office. Can you compete with that?"

He shrugs, minimally and she wouldn't have noticed, hadn't she been shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

"Guess not. Is everything a competition with you?"

"Not everything. But I won't deny I have a competitive spirit."

One that certainly does not include resenting the person she in love with for his success.

"Obviously."

"You do too."

If his fiery ability of conversation is any indication, he is a pro at competition.

"I do. And you're in luck because it has been recently re-awakened."

"That sounds promising."

And a morsel of information she stores away, a piece of the Will jigsaw puzzle.

"It should."

The glint in their eyes is visible even with the shaky light in the back of the cab.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence, a mischievous smile on both their faces. When they arrive to her building, he stops her from paying the cab with a hand on hers and a "you paid for drinks". Then, they both get out, maintaining a noteworthy distance. She takes the initiative to reduce it and takes his hand in hers before nudging him to follow her into the building. The doorman is surprised to see her with someone other than Tom and his usual "Goodnight Miss Bloom" is accompanied by an incredulous look.

"Your doorman is giving me the stink eye."

He breathes into her ear, while his hand abandons hers and lands on her other hip, so he can keep her close with a flick of the wrist. The vibration from his words reverberates throughout her body and leaves with an unrestrained desire for more of him. More of his words, more of the defiant look he is sporting when she turns to tell him to ignore the doorman. More of his fingers who are now gently and teasingly grazing her side to the rhythm of the elevator changing floors. When the doors open, she is the first one out and by the time she reaches her door, she has already found the keys in her bag. She opens it as swiftly as she can and they both enter.

Suddenly, she is nervous.

This is the apartment she moved into just after her MBA. She was already with Tom at the time. It dawns on her that she isn't anymore. That she is taking the first step to reduce the man she was going to marry to nothing more than a botched relationship. It's a step she needs to take. Marinating on past boyfriends is not her style. But this is her safe place. Nobody but Tom and her friends has been there. And Will, no matter how much she has pursued him, is still a stranger. A smart, well-dressed, handsome stranger. She skirts away from him, meticulously hangs their coats and moves towards her fridge.

"Do you want something to drink?"

She asks and tries to mask her ridiculous mood. She wants her night off without consequences nor repercussions. She deserves to shut the world off. Why won't her brain cooperate?

He studies her for a second or two, and then simultaneously starts laughing while maintaining a tender look in his eyes.

"You're really, really bad at this whole carefree act."

He is right. For all the brazen performance in the bar, in the cab and in the elevator, she still has her damn guard on. His laughter is rumbling and loud and contagious and she finds herself joining in, in a surreal scene of seduction that turns from sexy to comical.

"Do you want me to go?"

He asks when their fit of hilarity has subsided and she is sure of the answer.

"No."

She reaches him again, and her finger starts caressing his face while her other hand plays with his silk tie.

"But I guess I'm going to need some encouragement to truly be carefree."

She reveals, with just a grain of vulnerability and she hopes he proves worthy of her trust.

"I can do that."

His tone is lower, and she is mesmerized by the pull four mere words can have on her. He is on the brink of saying something else but she interrupts him by bringing their lips together. His surprise lasts a moment but then his hands are in her hair, following the ups and downs of some of her waves. Despite Will being an acquaintance of a couple hours or less, the next steps are all muscle-memory. The anxiety dissipates while the kiss that started gentle becomes frenzied, passionate. His hands make quick work of the zip on her dress but not as fast as she gets rid of his tie. They are both in their underwear when, with his help, she hooks her legs around his waist and he carries her around with seemingly no effort. She absentmindedly points to her bedroom while she is nibbling his ear.

"You work fast."

She teases, and her true meaning is probably lost on him. He does appear extremely proficient in removing unnecessary garments but that's not what she is talking about. She means that her head is peculiarly empty. No worries, no concerns, no memories.

And it feels gloriously liberating.

* * *

The last sound she acknowledges before peacefully drifting into oblivion is his murmured "You were right, Isabel would have been a mistake" and her consciousness lasts just the time of a passing thought: she is really adept at judging books by their cover.

**Worth continuing? **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter was supposed to cover all 5x06 but then I started having fun with Will & Emma and Will & Diane (next chapter) and I had to split it into two parts. I have changed the summary of the story to better reflect what this story will be and also the accompanying picture will change to reflect the POV of the chapter. So, as you can see, you will get Will's this time. Enjoy and thanks for reviewing. Hope you'll like Emma here too!**

The pleasant fragrance of freshly-laundered sheets was the first sensation he registered as he woke up in the morning. Lethargy hung over him for a couple of minutes and he enjoyed the lazy feeling of peace surrounding him. When he opened his eyes, a flurry of thoughts came his way, insufferably fast and hopelessly entangled. He closed his eyes again. A breath to refocus. A voice on his right side.

"That bad, eh? A lesser woman would take it personally."

The smile was a reflex due to the memories that suddenly flooded his mind. Emma had stopped him from a misguided hook-up with a woman that recognized people based on their tattoos. He wondered what the morning after would have looked like had she not intervened. Probably with Isabel droning about the benefits of a turtle over some kind of bird. He lightly shook his head to drown the images and sighed in relief for the danger he had avoided at the last minute. Then he turned to better take her in. The sassy, beautiful, anything-but-crazy woman that had managed to make the world spin in just one direction. A natural, completely-repeatable, fantastically-satisfying direction.

"I feel awake."

And he did. The confusion that had assailed him a few seconds before had subsided. In its place, a man with a purpose. Destroying the competition and making his firm the biggest in the country.

"Oh, God, don't tell me you're one of those new-age types that find the light after a particularly-delightful night."

He chuckled, admiring her, already bursting with a witty vitality first thing in the morning. She was sitting with her back on the bed's headboard, her long, toned legs providing a desk for her tablet. She was rapidly scrolling through pages of what could have been the newspaper and seemingly paying no attention to him.

"I don't remember you wearing your negligee last night."

He remembered instead how cute she had been, snuggling under the covers to protect herself from the chill in the room.

"I don't remember needing one during sex."

Lips casually pursed and eyebrow just faintly lifted, she was the picture of carefully-constructed nonchalance.

"What I meant to say, smartass, was that I don't remember you wearing one when we fell asleep."

"Then you should have specified that, Counselor."

She specifically drew out that last part. The sound of that word, jokingly pronounced by her with an accompanying flicker of her eyebrows had already acquired more enthralling power that he was ready to relinquish. Plus, it worked like the proverbial siren call for any single nerve-ending in his body.

"I'm both regretting and congratulating my decision to tell you that."

She just shrugged, gave him an evil I've-got-you-and-I-know-it smile and kept reading.

"You never answered my question."

"I'm trying to remember from my years of David Kelley-training whether there was a "Too obvious" objection."

He pulled himself up and kissed her as a response. Her fake annoyance died on his lips and soon she was turning what had been a simple banter-ending kiss in a open-mouthed, great-morning kiss.

"You don't have to be so merciless with your teasing in the morning."

"I know I don't have to, and yet...I want to."

"And you get everything you want?"

"Not everything, but I got you, didn't I?"

She said, in a seductive tone that he had learned the night before to be a potential source of all kind of trouble. Then she straddled him.

"So, tonight, I think I'll be done by 8:30, 9 at the latest."

"Isn't that a bit presumptuous, Miss Bloom, to assume that I would want to see you again?"

She threw a fleeting and condescending look down to his midsection before sinfully whispering in his ears.

"You tell me, Counselor, is it presumptuous or merely realistic?"

His "You should have been a lawyer" got caught up in a moan when she started her sensual torture on his neck and he proceeded to show her that she had nothing to teach him on the art of fulfilling torment.

* * *

Diane hadn't even finished saying "Who do you think?" that the day that had literally had an orgasmic start had already been molded into a high-stakes poker game. One of those that started with competitive glances and proud smirks and ended in a mix of celebratory alcohol, unsavory gestures and the rancid smell of desperation. Back in Baltimore, back when he was the insolent lawyer with the world at his fingertips, that had been exactly the kind of game he was used to. No rules but those of the actual game, and a big fat welcome sign for all kinds of psychological manipulation. Despite his resentment for that life and the troubles it had generated, the itch of the player had never quite ceased to exist. Alicia was just giving him the perfect opportunity to indulge himself in the forbidden habit.

He had started off soft, with stuffed rats in the file, to draw them out and because childish amusement was allowed only at the very beginning. While the other players decided how to start the actual game, he focused on his firm, on what was the new all-encompassing mission of his life. Win and win huge. Succeed, expand, thrive and show the world that there was no messing with Will Gardner. Not without consequence. He distributed the packets with the best litigators in town to his partners and postponed David Lee's objections. When the secretary called him out to give him an envelope, he understood that cards had been dealt and it was time to take his place at the green table.

The ACDB had been all Alicia. He knew it instantly. Just like with Judge Winter. He knew it because, with that hand, he would have gone for the same play. His and Alicia's minds had always been in tune. Ever since Georgetown. He had been the rascal, she the ethical princess and their respective qualities had contributed to turn them into the perfect team. But it hadn't been the same old opposites-attract mantra. They had possessed different ways of dressing their point of views, dissimilar approaches to executing their solutions but as for the ideas per se, most of the time they had seemed to share the same brain. It had indeed been a recurring joke between the two of them and their group of friends on campus. A sort of mind-reading game they performed for captivated audiences where a single nod or a shared smirk was enough to communicate and understand. And so he knew. And he laughed at the irony of the most-dangerous enemy being the friend that had helped him pulverize many obstacles. Diane's warning fell on deaf ears. Of course he wanted her in his head. Indeed, he could hardly remember a time in which Alicia hadn't been in some corner of his brain. The trick was in finally discovering how to turn against her what had always worked in her favor. Unknowingly, she had given him a tremendous gift. She had liberated him from the oppressive clout of her judgment. He had been tiptoeing for four years, second-guessing decisions he would have taken in seconds simply because of her disapproving look. Now that he had been made privy to the hypocrisy that animated Alicia Florrick the cage had been opened. No more taming of the feral lawyer he had always been. She would experiment first-hand just how grossly wrong her calculation about him had been.

He wasn't even fazed by her qualification to his statement to the chairman of the Board.

"Not your firm, you."

Instead he smirked, observing her. All authoritative and put-together. Such a drastic change from the demure and cast-off housewife she had been 5 years before. The Alicia that was in front of him was the Alicia that had mesmerized him in law-school, the force-to-be-reckoned-with that everybody had watched with profound respect. He couldn't help but smirk at that Alicia still existing in the world, even on the opposite side of the table, reminding the chairman of his suspension. He was acknowledging a fellow player back in the big-leagues. And as all players knew, during a game between high-level professionals there weren't feelings to spare or cards thrown away. The time in which he had believed himself of some importance to Alicia had come and gone. Now he saw her and could appreciate her for who she was: the half of a rotten rivalry destined to span years of battles.

When Mr. Deerfield ordered him to give them the files, he conceded that it had been a well-struck shot but he was already pursuing his possibilities to comply with the board and still not let her win. He weighed the various options with Diane a while before deciding. The redacted files had been a poetic touch, considering how much she had complained about them any time they came across any such case. A stalling tactic with a flair of class and a touch of poisoned memories to end the day with the upper-hand.

He was still reeling after the events of the day and spotting his working-out clothes in the bathroom he changed and ran home. Nothing like loud music and a clear head to begin what promised to be a great night.

* * *

The night doorman at her building had apparently not taken service yet because the young man that greeted him at the entrance was seemingly much less disapproving of his going to meet Emma. He arrived at her apartment in casual clothes, carrying a suit-bag for the next day. She opened in jeans, a sweater and a teasing smile.

"Look who's being over-confident now" she said pointing at his garment-bag.

"No, no, I learned from the best, remember? I'm being realistic."

"Fair enough. I'm glad you're already realizing who the best is. Come on in."

The night before and during the morning rush, he hadn't quite had the time to look around her flat. It was expertly-designed, if a bit cold, white and blue being the predominant colors in all the rooms he had been in. He stopped his perusal when he was handed a list of takeout menus.

"Gentlemen's choice tonight. What do you want to eat?"

"And here I thought I would arrive to find a home-cooked meal already on the table."

"Did you, really?"

Of course he didn't but he liked to assess her a little better by teasing her. He had, of course, heard of the humongous merger between the two biggest advertising firms in Chicago and he thus had been adequately impressed when she had revealed to be the head of Chicago-branch of DDB International. For a woman her age, it was stellar to have already gotten to that level but, even having known her for the grand total of a little less than 24 hours, he could tell that she was born to be in a role of command.

"Not really, but you have surprised me before."

"I don't think you've earned the right to be surprised like that."

"Yet?"

He didn't know where the yet had come from but with Emma, he wasn't following his usual playbook. He was acting on instinct, letting her get to know who Will Gardner was. He loved the fresh slate he was experiencing with her. No regrets, no what-ifs, no preconceived ideas. Just the possibility of functioning on impulse rather than on careful calculation was a luxury he craved for.

"Yet."

"So you do know how to cook?"

He asked while hanging his coat on one of a set of strangely-conceived hooks just beside the door.

"You're missing some qualifying there. I know how to cook some things. If absolutely necessary. What about you?"

From the length of the u in her absolutely he garnered that it definitely wasn't a favorite hobby of hers.

"I can, given the right circumstances."

He wasn't a chef and the right circumstances weren't often but certain lessons learned in boyhood had not been forgotten.

"Right circumstances like a serious threat placed on your survival?"

That certainly would drive him straight to the kitchen.

"That or a bet with the right stakes."

"That sounds something I could get behind."

He liked how blasé she was about using bets in a conversation. She was competitive, he had certainly learned that the night before but it wasn't an obsession, like with Celeste. Emma took her challenges seriously but coated them with a layer of whimsical lightness. She knew when games were about having fun rather than making war.

"Good."

"Good. So what do you want?"

He had no doubt since spotting the bright red menu of one of his favorite restaurants.

"I love the hamburger place."

"Is that a challenge I see in your eyes?"

Was it so easy for people to read him? Usually not. Emma had become a pro in such a short time. At least at reading the chapters of himself he was willing to show her.

"No. I'm just curious to what you're going to order."

"I'm not going to order a salad if that's what you're worried about. You see, I found that the eat and burn philosophy is much more to my speed. Plus, I wouldn't want my home-delivered gym machine to go to waste."

"Is that all I am to you? A means to burn off calories?"

"What if I add entertaining? An entertaining means to burn off calories? Any better?"

"Not really, but I'll take it because you'll make it up to me for all the name-calling."

"That is not an unreasonable inference. I'll order. What number for you?"

He had been sure of it. Maybe this easiness of reading went both ways.

"Number 10. I'll go to the bathroom in the meantime."

"Here, you can also hang your suit on the wardrobe door if you want."

"How very uncharacteristically generous of you!"

"I know, it's shocking to me too."

"I must have had quite an effect."

"You're using my good-nature as a way to stroke your ego? Isn't that a bit desperate?"

"I'm using your change in attitude as evidence of just how much I affect you. On the theme of being realistic and all..."

"My attitude is very temperamental so I would enjoy the gratification while it lasts and go hang that suit before I change my mind."

"Yes, Madam."

The bedroom was much more familiar and even though he had been mostly occupied watching her, he had paid attention to some details enough to immediately perceive that some objects were gone. Surely two photo-frames and half of the toiletries in the bathroom. Signs of a recent break-up. As recent as the night before. The timing would make sense. The bitterness infused in her "love is false advertising" line spoke of a raw wound and maybe that was one of the reasons why he had been so taken with her. They had both chosen to not wallow in self-pity and draw strength from their miseries. For the moment, their sexual chemistry, their glorious bantering and their shared resilience was enough to describe whatever there was between the two of them. He pushed away any thoughts of premature further labeling, hanged the suit and went to the bathroom.

When he came back, she was on the phone while plates and cutleries were on the table overlooking the terrace.

"... So they're meeting us tomorrow? ...Yes, I know that. But it'd be a huge client... We're ready for the second presentation... I knew they had liked the spin on that campaign... Absolutely, have it on my desk first thing in the morning... Good night to you too."

The huge smile on her face was an unmistakable tell. The fact that she practically pinned him to the nearest wall to kiss him thoroughly gave away the level of excitement.

"Had I not ordered that food, I'd be testing just how much fit you are."

"Really? Well, for future reference, I can handle the wall any time."

"Good to know. Then, for future reference, you should know that nothing excites me more than a win at work."

"That works out excellent because it's the same with me."

"You should hope for my success."

Had he blinked, he would have missed the slight change in her eyes at that last sentence. A shard of vulnerability made her eyes glossy for a second before she took control over her emotions again. He debated on whether he should ask but they weren't yet at that point. So he remained quiet and instead restarted the conversation.

"I'm already cheering for your success."

"Cheering, uh? Do you have the outfit? And the pom-poms?"

"That was so not what I meant."

"For a lawyer, you're pretty careless with words."

"Good thing I have you to keep me on my toes then."

"Yes, you're a very lucky man."

When she was looking at him, with those green eyes that shined with brightness and vim, he did feel like one.

"And who is going to be your lucky client?"

"I don't know yet that it is but tomorrow I could be. And it'd be my first huge client since becoming head of the Chicago branch."

"And I don't get the perk to know which company it is?"

"Nope. But here is a perk you will get. If I win the account tomorrow in the late morning I'll have a lot of energy and I'll need an outlet for it. So, if you're free, you'll get a middle-of-the-day thirst. How is that for a perk?"

"A thirst? Seems so forbidden."

"Ooh yes, sneaking out during lunch-hour for an encounter with a man. Scandalous. And one of the advantages of being the boss."

He kissed her with abandon then, because the words thirst and encounter seemed to have been created to be verbalized by her with a tone that promised eternal delight. He willingly ignored that part of his brain that at the word lunch-hour had suddenly conjured unsought memories he wished to forget.

He would, with time, rewrite over them, damning that period of his life to unadorned insignificance.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is part two of 506. Again Will's POV. I tweaked with the timeline in 506. If the writers can add different numbers of years to the kids, I can certainly eat a day to trim this chapter a bit :). The chapters are getting away from me. I never imagined I'd enjoy writing Will with a woman who isn't Alicia as much as I am but I'm loving it and my Emma more and more. I can't believe they came up with Isabel when there was all this fun to be had with a 3-D woman. Also, this chapter might be my favorite yet because I finally got back to writing Will and Diane which is, in my opinion, the best relationship in the show, bar none. The partnership between those two is amazing. Thanks to Mary for looking over that part from the height of her expertise! Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

He would leverage the loss to get Kalinda to commit exclusively to his firm.

That was his outtake from the ACDB meeting. He would not let the day go to waste like that, conceding to Cary and to an unlikely investigator he had saved from a life of perennial babysitting. If he could pile her sense of guilt over his defeat against FA&A and over her having concealed Cary's plans, he had a chance of making her a full-fledged Lockhart/Gardner employee. They would not be forced to give away more client files for Kalinda's penchant for freedom. Nonetheless, he was still utterly dejected when he sat down in his office.

Without a second thought, he took his phone out and called her.

"You're lucky I am not one of those to fret before presentations."

"Hello would have been the more common response."

"I'm in advertising. I strive to be original. And as someone who could potentially benefit from my originality, you should too."

"I had to hand out those files."

They had discussed his situation the night before, in what had been a drastic turn change in his habits. He had never approached the topic of work with his non-lawyer women. In retrospect, that was probably why they hadn't lasted much. His job was too engrained a factor for him not to share and be quiet to not be boring. Emma, on the other hand, had prompted him on it. After the phone-call, he had tried to get the name of the client out of her. Unsuccessfully. She, instead, had gotten him to open up about what he was working on at the moment. He had talked about the war with this other firm, without details on who the partners were and why he was infused with such animosity. He had been afraid to scare her with the war jargon he kept on using. On the contrary, she had nodded and kept asking question after question. When he realized just how long he had been talking, he had wanted to understand the why behind her many question marks. She had just shrugged and said: "There's no strategy behind it. I'm just curious. In my experience, anyone worth knowing is." He had sat there agape at the woman in front of him until she had called him on it.

"See? Not being original enough."

"Law is not always about being original."

"That's not what you said yesterday. Were you lying to me already?"

"You never let up, do you?"

"Occasionally, I do. Certainly not in situations like these. If you wished for someone to hold your hand via phone and use a concerned, mom-ish voice while you talked about all the scary feelings that losing those files brought up in you, then no, I'm definitely not the person for that."

He laughed, uproariously, enough for Diane to notice and give him a worried look. He had called exactly the right person. He had needed to remember that Will Gardner did not whine about lost files. Will Gardner acted.

"It's a war, Will. We discussed it yesterday while you were eyeing my hamburger and admiring my superior capabilities of ordering out. So, you lost a battle, it happens. Learn something from it and move forward."

And he had. He would tie Kalinda to L&G and Emma was dangerously close to speaking from his own brain.

"I did and I will."

"Good. And I'll make it more interesting."

"Let's hear it."

"Come up with something brilliant to get back at that opposing firm and the midday thirst will happen whether I get my client or not."

"I thought you weren't coddling me. That unfair balance is definitely akin to coddling. Win your client, I'll pull a rabbit out of my legal hat and we'll meet for a midday encounter. Otherwise, deal is off."

"You're on, Counselor."

"Fine, I'll let you go now. You might not fret but you need to prepare. Big stakes."

"Oh yeah, big stakes."

The drawing out of the i was suspicious without him being able to see whether or not she was rolling her eyes.

"Was that genuine, sarcasm or both?"

"You're smart enough to figure it out."

And with that she was gone and the scowl on his face had conspicuously vanished.

* * *

It turned out that the opportunity for a rematch came immediately.

Alicia and Cary needed the warranty files and they were still under his protection. The ACDB call was, again, instantaneous when they refused to messenger them. His baseball moving from one hand to the other, he concentrated on how to best Alicia. The idea came to him from his secretary coming in to tell him that the retainer agreement had been signed by a new client. He thanked her with more enthusiasm than ever before and she seemed uncertain on whether to accept his good mood or deem it as a sign of folly. Maybe both. Just as he had put in his folder the necessary sheet of paper, his phone vibrated with a message. Emma.

"I expected a victory. I got a triumph. Are you up to par?"

"I found my shotgun. But I have the meeting relatively soon. Can you meet me in the car?"

"Car it is but it better be hidden from plain view."

"Are you not into being the subject of voyeurism?"

"I might be but it'd ruin my image for the client."

"Am I getting the name of this client?"

"We'll see. Text me the address?"

"Yep."

They ended up in his car in a semi-deserted floor of a parking lot near the ACDB building, her perfectly-coiffed hair ruffled and his breath ragged.

"Somehow a car doesn't add to the mystique of the middle-of-the-day thirst."

"You know what would have? The office of your new client."

She laughed, without inhibitions and filling up the entire relatively-cramped space with her hilarity.

"Keep dreaming! And do you think I'd fall for tricks like that?"

"No, you don't. Please, tell me the name of the client."

"Do you promise not to cower but to only appropriately bow to my greatness?"

Her tone light and jesting did not match the ghost of skepticism that had haunted her eyes for a moment. Coupled with a similar reaction the day before, it wasn't complicated to infer that someone hadn't supported her success. Probably her ex-boyfriend. He put once again the drama aside and concentrated on showing her that he was not that kind of man.

"I promise."

"Kraft Foods Group."

"Their MidWestern Interests?"

"For now. With a promise for more."

"How many products?"

"All of them."

Two days in a row he had been left open-mouthed and incapable of speech. That was a spectacular win for an advertising agency. His lips turned up while he admired her in total amazement. How glorious she looked when the pride for her coup was noticeable all over her face.

"Normally I'd worry about you not talking but I agree it's the correct reaction in this case."

"I thought I was supposed to bow."

"Sure, go ahead."

"Nah, you won't be able to admire my bowing style in the car with such a short time."

"You have a bowing style?"

"An admired one. But I think I'll need to spice it up in this case. Such an achievement deserves the proper celebration. Tonight?"

"I can't. I'm celebrating with my friends."

"My pitch wasn't good enough?"

He schooled his face to show all his mock-offense.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It was a solid effort. But my friends are my friends. You can't compete with that."

A mere few weeks before he would have agreed. Then his friends had proceeded to prove him wrong. He hoped she'd never have to suffer the same fate.

"Fine. How about I come over after?"

"I don't like putting a preemptive cap to my girls' nights. I'll see how tired I am when I'm done."

"Fine... "

She kissed him then, her teeth grazing his tongue in a rhythm that made him surrender all control.

"I've got to go. But if you were trying to get me to stop harassing you about tonight that was not the way to go."

"As long as you know that I'm not going to change my mind... I'll come up with you. I don't have the keys to close your car."

"I could give you the keys in exchange for you changing your mind."

"And what would I do with your keys? Is that how you negotiate? I wonder how your firm has lasted this long."

"HA, Ha, ha. Funny."

"Text me when you have the result of your battle. I want to know if I've wasted time on a loser."

He sheathed his Cheshire-cat smile.

"Never."

* * *

When he arrived in the room, everyone was already seated and Mr. Deerfield took pain in reminding him of his lateness.

"We were about to start without you."

Yeah, it was never going to work as a way to make him regret Emma and the charge he always received from seeing her, in more ways than one.

"I'm here. Rock and roll."

From the severe and austere stare Alicia threw him, she had attributed his lateness to the right reason. He rejoiced in that. Let her bear witness of just how incredible he could feel merely days after her betrayal. He was flying high on Emma and the success he was about to obtain while she was sternly and properly playing the part of the quietly-outraged serious lawyer. He listened to Mr. Deerfield grandfatherly reprimand and he dropped the bomb only when Diane was starting to argue against the sanctions.

"That won't be necessary. We'll turn over everything immediately."

Alicia raised her eyebrows in surprise. When had she taken to the habit of underestimating him?

"Once we are properly compensated for our time and effort."

He particularly enjoyed the disapproving gaze she had on before leaving the room in what was nothing else but a retreat for manifest superiority. It almost made up for his amusement being so brutally cut short. His theatrical protest had apparently no effect but the victory look he shared with his partner made it all worth it.

* * *

The energy of the win gave no sign of waning and he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. Running and then Emma again. He had still not given up trying to wrangle her out of her friends' night. A smile was playing on his lips. It had been a great day and if the tax lawyers' deal came through it would be close to be a perfect day.

He spotted Diane coming into his office.

"So you're going running now?"

"Yeah, I've got this energy. I don't know where it's coming from but I'm gonna ride it."

He had some idea on when the energy was coming from. The thrill of a car encounter, as he had named it, followed by a victory over his worst enemy was never going to disappear in a few short hours.

"What's up?"

"Nothing, so we got Heather back."

"We did, didn't we? It was like old times. I was angry and you were calm."

And it really had been. Sitting on the same side of the woman who would always remain his partner, stopping her objections with a solution that they could both enjoy. It also took him back in time, when he had been a young, brassy Baltimore lawyer with too much anger and passion to put in the law as an antidote to gambling. Stern had insisted on Diane accompanying him in some occasions. "You're a kid. Shut up and learn!" and Diane's hand on his wrist had been the only thing saving Stern from a punch in the face. It was them all over again, history repeating seemingly in circles. Him back to gambling and playing the game and her back to the presence that reigned him in.

"What would you say if I stayed?"

The question took him by surprise but he knew the reason for it right away. Ever since the night of the Shamrock Dinner, he had caught himself wishing more than once that the entire night never happened. That Alicia had never urged him to stop feeling, that Peter had never made Diane that offer. A sense of loneliness had pervaded him ever since. The realization that he would have traded a solitary reign over his firm for the chance to keep working with Diane at his side hadn't even been that shocking. He had come to rely on her. He had come to love raising his eyes and knowing she was there. For whatever problem they had. Diane was just there. But never once, not even after that damn interview, he had hoped for something like this. For his regal partner stoically accepting that her dream of a lifetime had been taken away by a man's misguided sense of loyalty and machismo.

"Peter screwed you over"

His wasn't a question, it was a statement. After everything Diane had done, after turning against her partner, after having withstood being pushed away from a world she had built, after being conflicted between helping her firm and not project the image of an enemy of the Governor, she was paying a steep price for not having taken betrayal face down. Unacceptable. He had never heard that teary voice from her. He could practically see the toll that the "Yes" was taking on her. Regal, impassible, resilient Diane being taken for a ride by a man that belonged under the sole of her shoe.

"It's an odd psychology, isn't it? He can hurt his wife all he wants but anyone else tries and he goes absolutely tribal."

And his wife shared it. His selective blindness when it came to Alicia had engulfed that too. Peter and Alicia were the perfect couple. A couple that thrived on abusing their powers for personal gain.

"Bill and Hillary on steroids."

"He shouldn't get away with it."

Suddenly, with a sentence thrown impulsively in a conversation to make his partner understand that if he couldn't share her pain, he could definitely share her frustration, his game-plan had been amended. And it included sweet, satisfying, served-cold revenge with a capital R.

"What?"

Yes. He was already deeply in love with the idea. They couldn't let Peter Florrick ride into the sunset of a blooming political career while all the others suffered at his hand.

"He underestimates us. He called her phone when I had it and told me that I didn't want to make him my enemy and I certainly didn't want him and Alicia together. But he doesn't seem to have any fear concerning me and you, does he?"

"No he doesn't."

"But he should."

He punctuated his last words already pre-savoring the taste of Peter getting his due, of him winning the war against the one that had won every other battle. Diane flirted with a smile and finally looked passionate again.

"He definitely should. Do you have something in mind?"

"Not specifically, no. But I just realized that he gave me the chance to pay for all of the mistakes I made in my past and I never repaid him."

"We should definitely get right on that."

"Right? It's only fair. And think about it. The special election for the new State's Attorney is soon, isn't it?"

"It is. It's either going to be a Republican..."

"...or Wendy Scott-Carr."

A glint of triumph was shining in his partner's eyes. From the almost-defeated tone and demeanor she had before, she was now Diane Lockhart on the warpath and he wouldn't want to be in her way.

"Either way, it's going to be someone that will jump at the chance to unseat the current Governor."

"Yep."

"We'll have to be careful."

"Yes but I don't think it will be that difficult. He suffers from a tremendous hubris."

And he did. The hubris of the royally-inbred. Peter had been brought up in a world of politics. He had always known that with the right leverage, everything he ever desired could happen and he had smartly exploited the web of connections that his father had left him as an inheritance. He had lived a cushioned life, and his sense of entitlement made his egomaniacal tendencies insufferable. He had told Alicia that ever since the beginning. "He hasn't done anything to deserve you, Alicia. He takes you for granted, like everything in his life, Alicia. He expects that with an handshake and the right combination of words everything will be fixed, Alicia. You don't want to marry a politician, Alicia. You'll never know if you're talking to the man or the cardboard figurine in the lawn, Alicia". Warnings that had fallen on deaf ears. It had never occurred to him that with the marriage Alicia had adopted the sense of entitlement as her own. Just the umpteenth thing he had missed.

"He thinks himself above repercussions."

"He does. We'll have to gather evidence and burst that bubble for him, won't we?"

"Lockhart/Gardner style."

He chuckled. It seemed so long since he and Diane had shared a Lockhart/Gardner night. The idea that it didn't have to end, that Diane would accompany him in this new rise to the top was what he needed to bump his mood up to excellent.

"I like that perspective. I'm taking this firm to the top, Diane. We're gonna rip through our opponents. No votes, just decide and go. And it won't be polite anymore. Anyone in our way we kick their ass, fire them, buy them out or send them to jail. Sounds like a good plan?"

"Sounds like an excellent plan. I'm through being polite."

How he liked her Medusa-stare when it was pointed towards someone other than him. Not only Peter was an entitled bully. He was an idiot. Nobody in Illinois would make a better judge than Diane. At the same time, nobody in the world would make a more formidable enemy than Diane.

"Great, then welcome back home."

Home felt the right word to use. Diane could own any room merely by walking in it but her office was special and it would have never been the same without her in it. Without the nightcaps, without the panicked stares across the offices or without the knowledge that there was someone in the firm that cared as much as him.

"Thanks, Will. For having my back."

He nodded and he watched her hesitating on whether or not to keep talking.

"I never should have gone behind yours."

He supposed that it could be seen as ironic from the outside, just how much Alicia's betrayal had put things in perspective. Indeed, even though the wound still stung, he had found a renewed sense of admiration and respect for how Diane approached things head on rather than hiding behind fake smiles and polite conversation.

"It's water under the bridge."

"Is it?"

It mostly was. That his trust could be broken like that and they could repair it spoke of just how perfect a couple they were. Plus, steering his rage towards Peter helped.

"Well, not entirely, the Governor will pay for having come between us."

"Oh, yes, he will."

"But for the rest... You could have stayed quiet about Alicia. You could have signed your exit package and walked away. I never would have found out and I would have been the fool that sends a publicist going around promoting a stable firm. Not to mention the catastrophic damage to the firm, had we not gone in emergency mode. It means something that you came to tell me."

It was absurd that she had lost her judgeship for letting him know that they were being backstabbed. Just how sycophantic did Peter expect his nominees to be?

"There was never any other option. You deserved to know."

"You were right and I was wrong. About her."

He should have listened to her from the beginning. Diane's judgment had always been deeply valued but back then they were still trying to compete with one another and Alicia was still the best-friend he had lost, the only woman he had ever loved. Idiot.

"Will...

"It won't happen again."

That he was sure of. Never again her charm would paint her in a more flattering way. Never again he would let himself be fooled. Never again he would drop his guard.

"I don't think any less of you."

"What?"

"Because of what happened."

How didn't she? He did. Despite his new competitive edge, he could not seem to accept what a colossal error of judgment he had made. How a man of his age and with his experience could have been so utterly deceived as to the nature of her care for him.

"You should. I was a simpleton. It's not a great quality in a lawyer."

It was not a great quality in general. A particularly dangerous foe for a lawyer.

"You were a friend. It's a great quality in a man. What she did is on her."

Rationally, he knew that. But he still had to force himself not to dwell on the pain it had caused and on why she had the power of affecting him so deeply. That was definitely all his fault.

She put her hand on his shoulder in Diane-speak for "I'm here. I understand. I'm on your side".

"Well, in a few minutes the tax lawyers should call and her firm won't have an office. Nor tax-lawyers."

"Good to know. I should get home. Kurt will be waiting."

"So you're living together now, eh? Color me impressed."

"If that's what impresses you, I can't imagine what a look at my left hand will do."

His eyes immediately focused on the target even though the sentence could only have one meaning.

"No."

"Yes."

"You got married?"

"I did."

He got up and went for a hug which she willingly accepted. He discovered himself genuinely happy for them.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Look at that. A beaming bride."

"Shut up! You hadn't even noticed."

"You're right. What an awful partner. When did it happen?"

"The morning it all exploded."

"Now, that's a wedding day you won't forget."

"I think that any wedding day is a day you won't forget."

"Fair enough. But you certainly gave a whole new spin to the word bridezilla."

She smiled indulgently at him, like she often did. It never failed to make him feel appreciated.

"He's a lucky man."

"He knows. A lucky man who was willing to help Alicia with the case."

"Really? Do you want me to hurt him?"

"You do know he's a ballistic expert, right?"

"So? I can be stealthy."

He had no chance whatsoever in a fight with Kurt but the statement still stood. Maybe he could get Kalinda on it.

"Somehow I think I'd be more successful. I'll handle my own payback. But thanks for the offer."

"But seriously, how are you handling that? I know how much this case means to you."

"He's a man of principle. It's one of the reasons why I love him."

He had no doubt about it. And yet, he knew Diane better than that.

"But you still would have preferred him not to help her."

"Yes."

"Does he know, about the judgeship?"

"Not yet. It just happened."

"He'll be there for you."

"I know that. Do you think..."

She stopped, almost afraid to continue.

"No, he won't."

"Won't what? I haven't even finished the question."

"He will never think less of you, Diane. He's not an idiot. But he might want to kill Peter."

"I don't know about that."

"You're re-thinking your position on the right to bear arms right about now, aren't you?"

"Will..."

He smirked and the phone rang, almost on cue.

"Tax lawyers..."

"I'll leave you to it."

"Until tomorrow, Diane."

"Until tomorrow, Will."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hope you enjoy reading this girls' night as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

"First things first, do you have the power to bring back the Roasted Red Pepper Philadelphia?"

Karen had been the ice-breaker since Day 1 of their friendship-à-trois and years later, a meeting turned into cocktails and then countless hours spent talking, laughing, snorting, dreaming together the utter familiarity of her first move had the same comfort of the threadbare childhood blanket that still felt like home wrapped around her shoulders.

"Or more importantly, let's get that disgusting chocolate cheese cream off the shelves, shall we?"

"Eek, you're right that's definitely priority number 1. It's deceivably dense like pudding and at the beginning you feel like you're enjoying some hard-earned chocolate but then..."

"The cheese aftertaste is just vomit-inducing."

They had been already seated at their restaurant of choice and she had been arranging their bags comfortably in their "bag-seat" when Karen and Julia had gone off their usual post-new-client tangent. Two customers jokingly ready to take over the companies with their marked preferences.

"How is it that I systematically have to repeat that I don't actually decide for my clients?"

She would never openly vocalize how entertaining and hilarious she found those tirades behind her annoyed front. And yet they pursued because they knew. Friendship was all about knowing without the effort of always sharing.

"You have to repeat it because it's not believable."

Julia interrupted her moment and continued the conversation while actively perusing the menu with the attentive eye of the picky eater that she had always been.

"Right, you just don't scare them enough. Be more like me, I use the fear of death to get patients to stay off fries all the time."

That certainly had to be one of the most intriguing perks and tragedies of being a cardio-thoracic surgeon. Fear of death actually worked. But Karen could not get off easily like that. Not when she happened to be the greatest fries enthusiast she had ever met.

"It clearly doesn't work on you."

"Excuse me, I don't remember ever being on an O.R. table recently."

"Not even with Broody Max, the travelling research fellow?"

Karen looked to her menu in response. YES. She had always known something had happened there but the details had been scarce. Not anymore. She would transform Julia's assist into a simple goal.

"Oooh, Broody Max. You never told us what happened with him."

"Not even with Broody Max. Martha, the person in charge of sterilizing the O.R.s would have my head."

"But outside the OR?"

"I will say that not all the places in the hospital are so well-controlled."

The air of confidence that emanated from Karen whenever she decided to fess up to something had always mesmerized her. She owned her actions with glee and always a little bit of pride.

She and Julia shared a look before chorally stating the obvious.

"We knew it."

A feline smirk was the only response Karen gave before taking control of the conversation.

"Enough about me, let's put the spotlight back where it deserves to be: on Emma."

They both stared at her with the expectant eyes of who is pre-tasting the treat that was sure to be served. She had promised after all. But point blank she did not know where to start to explain to them what exactly had happened during the last three days. She made a weak attempt at buying some time.

"What happened to our dinners being spotlight-sharing events?"

"When Emma is right, she's right, let's share."

Karen turned to Julia and addressed her.

"Did you finish the code you were working on last week?"

"Not yet."

"Was the number of approaches attempted on you by the over-reaching neighbor this week lower, equal or greater than the number of times you've been asked to move to California?"

"I'd say lower. Either his imagination only goes so far or someone in Palo Alto is really intent on me being a less virtual presence there."

"Were any of them successful?"

"Nope. Ethan, poor boy, has no chance and I still value my fair skin and the changing of seasons over a bigger office."

Julia moving to San Francisco was one of her and Karen's recurring nightmares. The three of them knew that career opportunities were always a threat to their physical unit. It was a drawback of their shared success and of the world recognizing just how uncommon the members of their close-knit group were. Julia's indispensability and her substantial aversion to the Californian mono-season had been enough to preserve the equilibrium but there would come a time in which her bosses would be able to find the magic conditions to lure her away from Chicago. Until that time, they made a recurring joke of it.

"And when it comes to me, I have practically spent the last week in the O.R. at the side of the table. Voilà, ma chère, all done. Instead, to my right here, we have someone who dumped her longtime boyfriend, picked up a guy and won Kraft Foods. So the floor is all yours."

She nodded. It was time to mold her life into something resembling a proper shape.

"Order?"

"You know the rule."

"Save the best for last. Ok. Fine..."

She actually had no doubt on the topic she would start with but the waiter arrived to take their order so as to give her choice a moment of tense delay. When he was gone, not before eyeing the three of them a handful of seconds more than what she considered to be proper, she continued.

"So Tom."

"Tom it is."

"How could he do that to you?"

She loved that Julia's question hadn't been the customary "What happened?". She had relayed the gist of her break-up via email and they weren't pressing for the exact scene to be replayed in front of them. They were puzzled and genuinely incensed which was exactly the support she was looking for.

"I don't know."

Never an answer had been more truthful. She couldn't wrap her head around how her Tom had turned into the kind of man she had always steered away from. Into the kind of man who had been her expertly-designed match until her star started to burn a little brighter than his.

The waiter brought their bottle of wine and started pouring. Normally her wine glass would remain untouched, to Karen's outraged rant that her taste buds should be taught to appreciate wine and Julia's mere shrug. For some reason, wine just wasn't her type of alcohol. That night, in a complete turnaround, she asked for it to be filled more. To the credit of both her friends, nobody said a peep.

"I really don't. It's not like he didn't know that we were going after Kraft. He was one of the few people I told outside the office and he still accused me of sleeping with my boss from NY. My married boss from NY."

It aggravated her, that it had been at such a delicate and potentially key period of her professional path. She gulped the wine, hoping to calm down. Julia waited for her to pose the glass before intervening.

"He is such an encoding error."

"And an anencephalic waste of organic material."

The discipline-specific insults had been born out of Julia's attitude to reduce real-life situations to logical fallacies in computer programs. Karen had been delighted to open her treasure-chest of Latin-inspired, obnoxiously long words and she in turn had finally found use for the visual matrixes in her marketing classes. Not one of their men had been spared from having a mostly incomprehensible moniker.

"It's our fault."

"What?"

"Julia is right. Our vetting process was clearly faulty and not thorough enough."

"Inability to cope with the success of the better half is difficult to detect in reality but that's no excuse. We have been too benevolent towards Tom. He fooled us and you do know what that means. We can be painstakingly deadly in our revenge."

"Oooh, yes, Emma. Please let us. I've got a new and oversized refrigerator full of experimental drugs."

"And I have been wanting to give someone's digital identity a malignant brush for way too long. Tom is the perfect candidate. Did you have something in particular in mind? Should I make him into a staunch Tea-Party supporter? One of those anti-evolution, science is the root of evils people?"

Julia's excitement was contagious and her spirited, devilish side was always such a welcome part of her when there was righteous anger to be somehow dispersed. After the waiter had brought them their dinner, all three of them launched into the definition of the new and worsened Tom.

"He could be a Bieber fan!"

"Or a Real-Housewives watcher!"

"He could belong to the great Church of Scientology!"

At that last comment her broad smile turned into a chuckle and the chuckle paved the way for a liberating bout of laughter. Karen and Julia followed her lead, and they managed to attract the attention of the tables around them with their unrestrained indulgence in their would-be punishments.

She grabbed the napkin to dry the tears from her eyes and recover her breath.

"As entertaining as the prospect is, I'll give him a chance to miss me and realize just how mistaken he was in not wanting to share my success."

"What are you going to do when he realizes and comes begging forgiveness?"

Karen asked.

"And he will, no doubt about it."

Julia added as the immediate afterthought.

"If he comes begging forgiveness, I'll let him talk and enunciate all the reasons for which he was wrong, I'll let him apologize and I'll let him beg. And then I'll impolitely invite him to never again darken my life. He had his second chance after our huge fight two months ago. Too bad he wasted it so ingloriously. He should have known that nobody gets a third chance from me."

"Hear, hear!"

The glasses clinked for the end of her relationship with a man that did not deserve anything but her sneer. Two bites were all she was allowed before being prompted on continuing the tale she had started to spun.

"Let's go back to the story. So, to quench the rage..."

"I went to that bar near the gym, you know the one."

"Why didn't you call us?"

Karen had always been adamant on them being a support system that existed for whatever circumstance.

"Because... I don't know. I just wanted to put him out of my mind."

"We wouldn't have stopped you."

"I know but..."

Julia came to her aide.

"You just needed to get laid."

"Yes I did."

"And..."

"And, I saw Isabel there."

She was met with clueless faces. Indeed, without the clear indication of the woman in question, she wouldn't have been able to place her either merely by her name.

"Isabel who?"

"You remember the girl that subbed at the gym when Elle had her baby?"

"The one that wanted me to get a heart-tattoo to symbolize the fact that I work with hearts?"

Julia had to stop herself from spluttering wine all over the table.

"Seriously?"

"I'm not even kidding. It was that one time Emma was sick and you had to run out to get to the video-conference with your Californian bosses. She approached me and asked if I wanted it. I can't believe I didn't tell you girls."

"Well, you didn't."

"She would have suggested you get a computer tattooed somewhere."

"Sure, that would have shot up to the very top of my list of priorities."

"I was alone with her one time, but she never suggested anything in detail. I guess that advertising is too abstract a concept."

"It is."

"Well, anyway, she was with this man and he piqued my interest."

The four eyes in front of her sparkled with approval and curiosity.

"You took the date away from Instructor Tattoo?"

"I did."

"Did she realize it?"

"Or did she shrug and offer a discount for a couples' tattoo?"

"She did realize it. I wasn't exactly subtle."

"I would have paid to watch that."

"He should so thank you."

"He really should. Anyway, we have been having sex ever since."

"Ever since, huh? What has it been, a grand total of two days?"

Karen asked, while signaling for a new bottle of wine.

"Yes, two nights. And today after my triumph."

"Really? He already got you ditching work celebrations?"

Julia this time, from her other side but the mischievous tone was one and the same.

"I didn't ditch anything. I took a late lunch."

"Fair enough."

"So what are your plans with lawyer guy?"

"I'm partial to the word counselor myself."

Both nodded, and Karen added her own elocution of the word, letter by letter.

"It does roll off the tongue much better."

"I know."

"What's his name, anyway?"

"Your message didn't say. We only know him as Larry-Paulesque-bar-lawyer."

They were right. That had been the only indication she had given them in the email she had been writing while Will had woken up in her bed for the first time.

"Will Gardner."

"And where does he work?"

"He has his own law firm: Lockhart/Gardner."

"Is that Lockhart as in Diane Lockhart?"

Leave it to Julia to immediately pick up a detail that it had taken her a Google search to remember.

"Yes."

"She's was at the Emily's List luncheon in Chicago. I love the prospect of having her as the next State Supreme Court Judge"

"I know and me too."

"I don't think we actually ever met her personally."

Karen interjected and confirmed what she had immediately believed. She had seen Diane Lockhart from afar but never actually talked to her.

"No, we didn't. But I'll probably meet her now."

She realized her mistake from the instantaneous and contemporaneous double question.

"What?"

"So this is not just a rebound hookup?"

She had scared herself with how easily the idea had flown right out of her mouth. She wasn't looking to blowing whatever she had with Will out of proportion but the fact that he had been partner for a long time with a woman that she and her friends respected had won him quite a lot of points. Plus, she had no immediate intention of truncating their arrangement. It wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for her to meet Ms. Lockhart. She wasn't over-reacting. Was she?

"Well..."

"That good, eh?"

She felt a familiar heat pooling in her cheeks and hopefully they wouldn't tease her mercilessly for the blush that she was certainly sporting. She couldn't deny that on day 3, she had stopped using Will merely to forget Tom. There was something more there. What, precisely, was still hard to say but the experience was too thrilling to be discarded simply as a breakup-induced hookup.

"He is..."

"A love machine?"

All three of them liked their Broadway musicals. And this time the line Julia had selected and sung in a low tone of voice was particularly accurate. Will was, at the very least, talented. Unsurprisingly Karen kept going with the next verse, her mouth forming a teasing "o".

"Oh he makes you dizzy."

Yes, Will had indeed demonstrated that he possessed that ability. She, however, had a mirroring one and she loved to use it to watch him squirm. She didn't drop the Mamma mia! theme and instead sang her part.

"Honey, honey let me feel it, ah-hah"

The three of them laughed again and it filled her with a sense of pride that she could feel like this three days after having been grievously harmed.

"And it's not just that. He's fun and smart and he plays well with my obsession for the perpetual bantering."

"You like him."

Julia sentenced. And there was no point in denying the truth. She did like Will. Maybe a little too much.

"Yes, you do. And it's a problem why?"

"Who said it's a problem?"

Her question was redundant. Her friends could read her tea leaves with easiness.

"Do we look as gullible as most of your customers?"

"You darkened there for a second."

It was possible that she had. When he was just a night-prospect at the bar, the fact that Will had seemed to have an history had made him mysterious, the perfect prospect. Out of that context, history became baggage.

"He's wounded."

"Meaning?"

"I don't know exactly. The night we met he said that friendship is all false advertising."

"He's clearly mistaken."

Karen again. She had always puffed her plumes a bit about the fact that it had been her outspokenness that had brought them together and created the friendship they all relied upon. Julia and herself had always been thankful in that regard.

"I know but it made him interesting, that night. It's actually what attracted me in the first place. That we were both complicated looking for simple."

"And you're wondering how that survives outside the bubble of simple one-night-stand?"

"Exactly."

"What's your hunch?"

"What?"

"It's not like you to over-think something like a one-night stand. After your first night with Tom, you were totally dismissive of the possibility of you two getting together. You had an instinct. What's your instinct now?"

Julia had hit the nail right on its head. There had been an instinct with Tom and she had stupidly ignored it. There had been some magnetic pull with Will but she had also developed a nagging sensation that he was more broken that he let on.

"I think his wound is deeper than mine."

"So what?"

Karen blurted out before she could truly elaborate.

"You're not the nursing type, Emma. You will run at the first sight of you having to mother him or put back the pieces. But give him at least the chance to heal him on his own before moving on."

"You're not usually so positive with my new conquests."

"I'm not saying that he won't be vetted if this thing goes forward, and this time without reserve. But when you had that huge fight with Tom you were devastated while now you can laugh about him three days after the break-up. It could be our incomparable company, it could be you unconsciously being prepared for the break-up, it could be this Will, it could be the most-sold cream cheese in the country but you shouldn't mess with recipe, just in case."

"Karen is right. You're probably right about him but don't over-worry until this hunch has legs. And if it turns out that it does, it's something in his recent past. If he's not a Luddite, his recent past exists somewhere in the digital world and I will find it. And then we can discuss whether the wound is too deep."

Her friends always manipulated her like a puppet and, on evenings like that one, she loved them for it. There would probably be weeks to obsess over what had ailed Will. In the meantime, anxiety over Will for the moment quelled, she moved to the topic she had been wanting to discuss with them ever since she had experienced the epiphany for how to win over Kraft Foods.

"Fine. You're both right. We'll see where it goes with him and revisit the situation. Can I gush now about the awesome ad campaign that got me into the graces of the cheese executives?"

The answer was unanimous.

"Hell, yes!"

* * *

She returned home late and tipsy, her lips turned up while she maintained an online conversation with the two people she had left just minutes before, prolonging the fun of the evening. In her warm sense of beatitude, the chilly voice made for a stark contrast.

"I thought I'd bring back your stuff in person."


End file.
